


A Moment of Comfort

by apple_of_my_eye



Series: Series<~>Inception [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dreamsharing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Inception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:40:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_of_my_eye/pseuds/apple_of_my_eye
Summary: After Inception, Eames is drastically affected by a delayed flight. He spends the night with Arthur, where he sees the true brunt of how much Arthur is suffering.





	A Moment of Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> This is Eames's perspective of "A Moment of Weakness". You don't have to read that one to understand this one, this just gives a different perspective.

Eames opened his eyes to see Arthur hastily grabbing the PASIV and sitting back down. Eames surveyed the plane, seeing everybody else open their eyes. Eames settled back down in his seat, feeling the pit in his stomach disappear as each person opened their eyes. He met Arthur’s eyes and felt a smile creep on his face as he waggled his eyebrows at the point man. Arthur blushed, a furious look on his face.

 

As soon as the plane was open to leave, Arthur bolted up and almost ran to the exit. Eames stood much more calmly, knowing that his flight back to England wasn’t for another 3 hours. He grabbed his backpack and exited after Ariadne, not looking her in the eye. 

 

Anonymity was not comforting to him at all. He was a very social person, needing to talk to people constantly. When his friends all dropped off the map to hide from a large, angry company, he was forced to make new friends. It was easy for him.

 

He needed constant human contact. That’s why he was the perfect forger: he was friendly and talkative, able to get any story out of any man. He never able to shut up for more than 15 minutes. He saw it as a strength, but others saw it as a liability. In his opinion—he had a lot of those—the only liability in this team was that Arthur didn’t talk to anybody about anything.

 

They were different like that. 

 

Following Arthur’s ass at a comfortable distance, he saw Arthur’s eyes as he turned around for a moment. Eames caught his eyes for a moment and fought the urge to make a face. Anonymous, Eames. Be anonymous.

 

When Arthur whipped his head back around, Eames tried to ignore the panic in his eyes. It must just be a momentary thing. Eames was following Arthur all the way through customs and to the baggage claim. He looked up a bit later to see Cobb walk past, a relieved smile and a hopeful look in his eyes. Eames shot him a smile as he walked by. Adriane and Yusuf were getting into taxis as he walked by. 

 

He passed Arthur again and noticed the shaking of Arthur’s hands. He felt a pit in his stomach. Robotic Arthur, with his hands shaking after a job?

 

Eames shook his head and walked to the other side of the terminal. 

 

Walking to the other side of the terminal alone was frustrating. His adrenaline was still running rampant from all of the excitement in the past lifetime. He yearned to talk to someone, or at least get a drink. The person next to him on the airplane would hate him, but that’s okay. He’s used to that. At the end of his trek, he glanced up at the monitor and cursed.

 

His flight was delayed by 17 hours.

 

He walked up to the desk that was under the monitor, flashing a brilliant smile to the woman behind the desk. She looked exactly like the woman that he had portrayed to flirt with Fischer, and it was a tad startling.

 

“Excuse me, miss, but my flight back to England has been delayed by an ungodly amount of time. Is there any other flight I can take?” He asked sweetly. The girl looked disinterested.

 

“No, I’m sorry. We haven’t been able to get the flights back on track. Apparently the CEO of the airline was on the last airplane.” The girl said, looking up from her computer. Eames groaned.

 

“Is there any closer connecting flight?”

 

“I’m afraid not. Everything has been bought out.” The girl said. Eames sighed and turned around to go find an outlet to charge his cell phone. He needed to find a hotel, preferably one with too many hookers. He was going to have to kill 17 hours, and he wasn’t going to do it alone.

 

Finding an outlet, he plugged in and looked through every hotel booking site he could find, and just his luck, there were no hotels with brothels nearby. And in Vegas, that meant no hotels were open. He cursed and debated his options.

 

Staying with Cobb was out of the picture, since he would be reunited with his children. Saito was a no, he was probably on his way to his private island or something after figuring out his bloody stupid airline. He didn’t have Yusuf’s number, and Ariadne was already on her way to NYC via train to study for a few nights.

 

Arthur.

 

Goddamnit.

 

Eames dialed the point man’s number almost sheepishly. It rang once, twice, and on the third time he picked up.

 

“Eames.” Arthur said, his voice sounding…forced.

 

“Do you have a bed open, darling?” Eames replied. There was a slight pause.

 

“I have a couch. Why, is something wrong?” Arthur asked. He sounded concerned. Eames was too annoyed to comment, however. 

 

“Not really, except the flight I was supposed to take was delayed by… eighteen hours. It used to be seventeen, but here we are… at eighteen.” Eames snapped, seeing the number go up on the monitor.

 

“And you are telling me this… why?”

 

“I need a place to stay overnight so I don’t throw out my bloody back on these airport stools.” Eames said arching his back and hearing a loud series of cracks. He winced.

 

“And you want to sleep on my couch.”

 

“Yes, that was the plan.” Eames rolled his eyes and leaned against the back of the chair.

 

“And why should I let you stay?”

 

“Because, darling, you are going to miss the melodious sound of my voice, just as I will miss your condescending tone—” Eames smiled as he could almost hear Arthur’s blush through the phone.

 

“I’ll text you the address.” Arthur interrupted. Eames chuckled as the point man hung up.

 

Eames left the terminal, hopping in a cab. As he gave the address to his cab driver, Arthur texted again, saying that he had no food in the house. Eames smiled.

 

“Drop me off at the best Chinese place in town.” He requested. The cab driver smiled and sped off into traffic.

 

Twenty minutes later, he was walking in to a place called Big Wong. Ordering his favorite, lo mein, he racked his brain for Arthur’s favorite meal. He recalled a time when they got Chinese while working on a project for hours, creating mazes together, when they had suddenly realized that it was 2 in the morning. Arthur had ordered…

 

“Sesame chicken, white rice, and green beans.” Eames waited, and 20 minutes later, he was walking out with a large bag of food and a hearty tip for the lovely cab driver that waited for him. As the cab took him to Arthur’s place, it started torrentially downpouring.

 

And sadly, Arthur’s apartment was one of those buildings with the doorbell outside. He stood in the rain as he rang the doorbell once, twice, three times where he just pressed it repeatedly until he heard the click of the intercom turning on.

 

“Godammit, Arthur, buzz me in!” Eames shouted. There was a click and a buzz as the door opened for him, and he stepped into the elevator, riding it all the way up to Arthur’s penthouse and knocking on the door. The door whipped open and a shocked Arthur stood there. Eames was just as shocked.

 

Arthur was standing there in clothes that were so informal for him. He had a white t-shirt as pale as his face and jeans as dark as the bags under his eyes.

 

“Why are you wet?” Arthur inquired, taking Eames’s belongings and ushering him inside.

 

“Oh Arthur, I’m always wet around you.” Eames said in a sing-song voice. Silence followed as Arthur’s cheeks reddened and he placed Eames’s duffel on the side of the couch. A though struck Eames.

 

“Arthur, it’s torrentially raining outside.” Eames said slowly. Arthur rolled his eyes as he went to go get a plate and fork. Eames saw Arthur pause in the kitchen. As he turned, Eames busied himself with taking off his coat.

 

“So it is.” Arthur said, retrieving a plate and utensils. He walked back out to the living room where Eames had sat down.

 

“Did you really not notice, pet?” Eames asked. Arthur flinched at the nickname and shrugged, placing the plate and utensils on the coffee table, taking a seat on the other chair he had in the living room.

 

“I’ve been… preoccupied.” Arthur said. Eames eyed him as he sat down.

 

“Have you eaten?” Eames asked as he opened the first container to reveal lo mein.

 

“Yeah, I grabbed a, uh, bagel on the way home.” Arthur said. Eames eyed him yet again, and then offered Chinese food. Arthur was being finicky. “No, thanks.”

 

“I got your favorite.” Eames said. He pushed a foam carton towards Arthur. Arthur opened it slowly. Eames expected a smile on his face, but Arthur only nodded. The point man seemed to be holding back a grimace. 

 

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry.” Arthur said, walking to the kitchen and putting the container in the refrigerator. When Arthur returned to the living room, Eames was giving him the side-eye as he twirled lo mein on his chopsticks, the utensils Arthur had gotten sitting unused on the table. After a beat of silence, Eames spoke again.

 

“They don’t have much of this Americanized Chinese food in England. It’s such a guilty pleasure of mine.” Eames said, shoving noodles in his mouth. Arthur blinked.

 

Arthur’s eyes clouded as he looked down, blinking furiously. Eames sat there for a moment, studying him. It was his job, he needed to be able to read people.

 

Arthur had an inner turmoil, he seemed panicked and frustrated and… guilty. He was suffering, and he was hiding it from everybody. From his shaking hands to his crinkled nose, Arthur was hiding something huge.

 

Stereotypical Arthur.

 

The man was a robot, and Arthur never showed his true feelings to his coworkers and his pain was always hidden. It hurt Eames to see Arthur panic in his own mind for a moment.

 

“Arthur…” Eames said. Arthur started and looked to Eames. “You with me?” Arthur blinked and blushed again. 

 

“I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Eames.” Arthur retorted as he stood. Eames watched him as he exited quickly. 

 

“Goodnight.” Eames called after him. He looked beside him on the couch. A comforter and pillow were there for him when he wanted to sleep. 

 

Eames heard the door click shut as he shoveled lo mein into his mouth. He finished moments later, cleaning up after himself. When he put the carton in the trash, he noticed that it was completely empty. No wrappers, no nothing.

 

Eames knew that Arthur hadn’t eaten anything for dinner, but this just confirmed it. Eames went to Arthur’s room to confront him, but he was already asleep. Eames sighed, planning on leaving just then to go get eggs for breakfast tomorrow. But Arthur didn’t look right.

 

Arthur had a crease in between his eyebrows, his jaw clenched. Eames pushed out a breath, leaving silently and getting a chair from the kitchen table. He quietly placed it at the foot of Arthur’s bed and just watched him. Personally, Eames didn’t want to be alone, and he knew that Arthur didn’t either.

 

He didn’t want to be creepy, he just wanted to be there for Arthur if he needed him. Cobb had told him stories of Arthur waking violently, being terrified of the fantasy he had just woken up from. Eames settled in to the wooden chair, watching the rise and fall of Arthur’s chest. 

 

It was comforting, seeing Arthur sleeping. Eames hadn’t actually known if Arthur slept, or if his coworker did nothing but work. Arthur, to Eames’s delight, seemed content with his sleeping. With his slightly shivering body, yet relaxed face, Arthur was sleeping gently. Eames watched Arthur sleep soundly until sleep overtook his own mind.

 

He woke hours later to whimpering and moaning. He sat up quickly, pushing the chair back as he jerked awake.

 

Arthur was curled into himself so much that it must hurt his bones. His legs were all tangled in the sheet—just a sheet, he must be so cold—and he was gripping his hands together so tightly that Eames could see his white knuckles even in the dark. 

 

“Arthur?” Eames said softly. “Arthur…” Arthur didn’t respond, didn’t wake up. Eames went to shake him awake, but he was a beat too late.

 

Arthur sat up with a shriek. Eames jumped back with a gasp as Arthur sat up rigidly and twitched, his body almost solidifying as his joints locked. He blinked once, twice, three times. His eyes were wide open and glassy, complimenting his wide mouth. Arthur wasn’t breathing.

 

“Arthur, darling, breathe with me.” Eames said after a moment of pure panic. 

 

Arthur didn’t seem to hear him. He was sitting rigid and didn’t even flinch when Eames passed a hand over his face, trying to generate a reaction. Arthur seemed to be frozen in time, almost as if the kick hadn’t worked.

 

What the hell was happening?

 

Eames stood in front of Arthur, lifting his hand slowly and bringing it up to Arthur’s left side of his face. Something clicked behind Arthur’s eyes. Eames smiled a bit. He brought his other hand up to the other side of Arthur’s trembling face. Arthur’s face softened and his eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. 

 

“Darling, pet, Arthur, can you hear me?” Eames said. 

 

Arthur only blinked slowly, his mouth still hanging open and eyes blown too wide, too scared. 

 

He kept talking quietly to those dead brown eyes. He told fables, stories of his childhood. He even tried to sing a song to the point man, trying to generate any reaction. He tried to breathe life into those eyes that he loved so much.

 

Those eyes that he had seen so full of life only a few hours ago, seen so happy in years past. They still didn’t focus, but tears welled up in them, causing Arthur to let out a breathless sob. He cooed at the point man, rubbing the tears off of his face with his thumbs. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered more, as he let out a real sob, still not moving. He was trapped inside his own mind—a place where Arthur could destroy himself. 

 

Eames had been trying to get into that brain for years, but Arthur hadn’t let anybody except for Cobb see anything important. Arthur was a fortress, and if the terrified point man were to get lost in that fortress—

 

Arthur let out a sob again, whimpering and flinching in Eames’s hands, his face constricting and eyes narrowed. 

 

“Hush, darling, you’re safe with me, you’re safe here. You aren’t alone, dearest. I’ll never leave you alone in the dark, pet. I’m here for you.”

 

Arthur’s eyes suddenly widened and he ripped his face out of Eames’s hands. He scrambled back, away from Eames, and reached off his bed to get a bucket that was right next to his bed. Arthur started retching, letting out these horrible, horrible sounds of pain. 

 

Eames had absolutely no idea what to do.

 

Arthur kept retching and moaning. Eames heard what tried to be words, but they just sounded like pained moans. Arthur let out sobs and Eames heard painful hyperventilating. After another moment of confused panic, Eames said one word.

 

“Arthur?”

 

Arthur jerked his head up. He looked right at Eames and gasped, pushing the garbage can off his bed. Arthur sniffed and rubbed a hand over his panicking eyes, which were darting all over the room, occasionally landing on either the closet or on Eames. They were still foggy, seemingly not seeing anything except what he saw in his own mind.

 

“Arthur? It’s me, it’s Eames. Okay? Hey, Arthur…” Eames said.

 

“N-N-No. Eames was d-d-d-dead.” Arthur stuttered out, sounding anxious and confused.

 

“I’m not dead, darling. I’m right here.” Eames replied, taking slow steps towards Arthur.

 

Arthur let out a choked sound and pulled his knees into his chest and fisted his short hair with his shaking hands. The sheets tightened around his legs as he curled into himself. Eames took more steps towards him and kneeled in front of the shaking man on the bed. After a moment, Arthur reached over to his nightstand with his totem on it, grasping it tightly.

 

“Go away.” Arthur said with surprisingly steady voice a moment later. Eames scooted closer to Arthur.

 

“Pet, you’re shaking.” Eames said gently. Arthur ducked his head just as Eames stretched out a hand.

 

“This isn’t reality. Kill me. Oh god, kill me.” Arthur begged, retching into his lap. Eames shushed him gently, feeling nauseous himself at the sincerity in Arthur’s voice. Even in a dream, Eames didn’t think that he could kill Arthur. He just couldn’t bring himself to end the light in those eyes.

 

“Yes it is,” Eames said, “Arthur, you’re hyperventilating, you need to—”

 

“I can’t feel the weight.” Arthur’s shaking hands dropped the die onto the constricting sheets and he gasped into his knees, his hands winding back into his hair. Eames felt a pit in his stomach at the panic in Arthur’s voice.

 

“Your hands are numb, darling, let me.” Eames said softly. Arthur’s hands were shaking profusely in his hair.

 

Eames put his hands over Arthur’s. Arthur jerked his head up, forcing the two men to come face to face. Arthur locked eyes with Eames. Eames smiled softly as he worked his hands through Arthur’s. He uncurled the strong fingers out of the short black hair, wrapping them in his own. He slowly worked at each finger, rubbing feeling into each ligament in each finger. Arthur started breathing slowly as Eames warmed each finger, taking great care to only help and not hurt. Based on the way Arthur was looking at him like he was the world, Eames could tell he was doing a bit of good with this point man.

 

The experience could have lasted seconds, hours, or days. Eames couldn’t tell.

 

It was wonderful.

 

Arthur still had tears still rolling down his red cheeks, down onto his chest. Eames could barely look at the large eyes staring back at him, they were so full of hope and pain and dare he say—love?

 

Eames was almost done with rubbing feeling back into those soft hands when Arthur jerked them away. Arthur was hyperventilating again, his eyes blown wide as he gasped like a fish out of water, starting to sob brokenly—again. It hurt Eames to know that Arthur was still panicking so much.

 

“Arthur, your totem.” Eames said insistently. 

 

Arthur scrambled for it on the bed, grabbing it and crushing it in his palm. After a moment, Arthur let out a shaky sigh of relief. He sunk his head into his knees and seemed to try to fight his anxiety. Eames wanted so, so badly to reach out and hold him, drag him into his lap and hold him until he felt better. However, Eames didn’t want to push Arthur into places he was uncomfortable with, touching him or stroking his hair. Even if he really wanted to.

 

Arthur sat there for a minute, Eames looking at him as he calmed. Arthur sighed again.

 

“I’m alright.” Arthur said, putting his totem on the nightstand and adjusting his shirt and boxers. Eames watched him as his shaking hands fluttered around his tangled legs. Eames’s stomach clenched as Arthur got increasingly frustrated seconds after trying to untangle himself.

 

“Arthur, let me help you.” Eames said.

 

“No, Eames, I’m alright.” Arthur said. Eames sighed, frustrated with how Arthur refused any sort of help.

 

Eames sighed and pushed Arthur down on the bed. Arthur let out an indignant noise as Eames effectively peeling the sheet off of Arthur’s sweaty legs. Arthur blinked once, twice, three times as he glared at Eames, but didn’t fight the helping hands as Eames leaned over his coworker, helping him get tucked in again. 

 

“Fuck off, Eames.” Arthur snapped, pushing Eames off of him. Eames shot a look at the shaking point man.

 

“Arthur…you were shaking, and—” Eames said.

 

“Don’t Arthur me, Eames. Leave me alone.” Arthur said, his face red with shame. Eames pouted, feeling feisty.

 

“No.” Eames said, climbing onto the bed, sitting on it and leaning with his back against the headboard. He almost laughed at Arthur’s face of shock.

 

“You’re insufferable.” Arthur said, stifling a yawn. He lay on his bed with his back to the Englishman, sighing. 

 

Eames sat for a moment, studying the point man’s back. His shoulder blades were too bony, too pronounced, to the point where he could see them through the baggy white t-shirt. Eames was annoyed—Arthur wasn’t one for self-care. Eames had known him long enough to know that Arthur constantly thought of only others. 

 

Did Arthur realize that he meant the world to Eames?

 

“Arthur,” Eames said after a moment, “You don’t have to be alone with your suffering.” 

 

“I’m not suffering, Eames.” Arthur said bitterly, curling into a ball. Eames hesitantly rested a hand on Arthur’s head, eliciting a gasp from the point man. Eames felt his heart hurt yet again.

 

“Don’t joke me, Arthur. I have never seen you like this before and I’m nervous.” Eames said. He didn’t mean to sound like a mother, but from the snort he got from Arthur, he could tell that Arthur took it the wrong way.

 

“Oh, I’m touched.” Arthur said. Eames forwent all previous hesitation and scooted down and lay down next to Arthur. He could feel Arthur tense up and suck in a breath.

 

Eames placed a hand on Arthur’s waist, feeling him tense up even further. Eames gave up on subtly, seeing as Arthur wouldn’t accept any help. Eames was too stubborn to let Arthur slip out of his grasp.

 

He felt all the tension in the bony body beside him disappear.

 

Then the little bugger turned around and planted his head on Eames’s chest. Arthur pushed his body up against Eames’s, almost as if Arthur wanted to take a nap in Eames’s entrails. Arthur let out a calm breath as his hands bundled up in Eames’s shirt. Eames chuckled, trying to make Arthur feel comfortable as he wrapped his hands around Arthur’s biceps.

 

“I’m here.” He said gently. Arthur nodded into Eames’s chest, and Eames could tell he felt more confident as the point man snuggled into Eames.

 

Eames was proud of Arthur. Arthur hated showing vulnerability. Even when they dreamshared and Eames had seen what was inside Arthur’s head, he had never shown vulnerability.

 

Arthur let out a sob of relief as Eames wrapped his arms around the still-trembling point man, one around his waist and one at the nape of his neck.

 

“Oh Arthur…” Eames said. He felt such sadness for Arthur.

 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur said.

 

“You are being so stereotypical.” Eames chuckled.

 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur said. Eames’s smile faltered.

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. There, I was stereotypical right back.” 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Stop apologizing, darling. Everybody has nightmares.” 

 

“It’s not for that.” Arthur said. Eames sucked in a breath that knifed down his throat.

 

“Then what?” Eames asked, confused.

 

“Inception.” Arthur said. Eames tightened his grip on the still-shaking point man.

 

“Darling, it went perfectly.” Eames said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He knew exactly what Arthur was self-conscious about.

 

“Not that. I didn’t do my job.” Arthur said. Eames winced.

 

“The militarized subconscious barely affected us. It added a little pizzazz to the job, and—” Eames started as Arthur balled his fists and sucked in a breath.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Eames.” Arthur said, pounding his fists on Eames’s chest. Eames was alarmed at the panic in his voice again.

 

“Arthur…”

 

“Saito went into Limbo. Cobb almost didn’t get what this whole job was for. Ariadne was IN Limbo, Jesus Christ, it’s all my fault…”Arthur choked and cut himself off, pressing his face into Eames’s neck.

 

“Pet, darling, no. Yes, you missed something. Yes, it affected lives. But, you still got everybody awake safely. The kick in the elevator was genius, darling.” Eames said into Arthur’s hair, smelling his conditioner and a bit of sweat.

 

“Eames, I…”

 

“Sleep, Arthur. You’ll have plenty of time to hate yourself tomorrow.” Eames said, rubbing the back of Arthur’s head. Arthur sighed and pushed into the touch. He was still shivering from the adrenaline rush that had lasted the better part of an hour. 

 

“That’s comforting.” Arthur replied snottily, pushing his head into Eames’s neck. Eames smiled as Arthur gripped at his shirt, almost subconsciously.

 

“Yes, I suppose it is. See you in the morning, darling.”

 

When Eames awoke, he peered down at Arthur’s face that had migrated to his chest. His eyes were closed, lips apart, face flushed. The sunlight that came through the window caught on his eyelashes and holy shit, this man was beautiful.

 

Eames fell back asleep as the sunlight kept streaming in.

**Author's Note:**

> validationnnn??? plz love yalls


End file.
